In sickness and in health
by silentphill
Summary: The world's only Consulting Detective is approached by a phenomenon completely new to him-a cold- and John Watson, doctor and PA, must nurse him back to health. However, with Sherlock being as stubborn as a five-year old, it turns out to be harder than expected! On top of it all; John makes a choice he might regret. One-shot. Johnlock


Hi Guys! I'm back again with a brand new Sherlock one-shot! Reviews are most appreciated :) Enjoy!

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John balanced the two bags with groceries in each hand, casting irritated glances at the taller man in front of him. If Sherlock for once insisted on coming with him, he could at least help him carry the god-damn groceries home. John's arms were already sore from the weight. Slowly, they made their way towards Baker Street and John promised himself that they would take a cab next time. Even if it meant buying less milk to afford the ride.

As usual, the grocerie-shopping had been a tedious thing. The line had been long behind him when he'd finally won the fight with that bloody machine-Well, after some help from a certain detective. John Watson's archenemy had proven to be technology, which was a most annoying inconvenience in modern London, although he did prefer that to assassins and Moriarty.

So far, everything had been normal-as normal the life of a consulting detective's PA could be. However, one thing was different; or more accurately; Sherlock was different.

There was an unusual lack of snarky comments and deductions ever since morning. Even more strange, Sherlock had slept in and had buttoned his shirt wrong and then he had offered John sugar for his coffee, although he was well-aware John didn't take sugar. Unless this was another of Sherlock's attempts to experiment on and trick him, there was something wrong.

As he observed the detective in front of him, he noticed his shoulders were lumped down as if defeated. The dark brown curls danced in the chilly breeze, tousled like a bird's nest.

John sighed, starting to feel concerned. Did Sherlock forget to fix his hair too? Sherlock never just forgot. He'd always cared for his appearance. He seemed completely absent from the real world. Perhaps he'd sought refuge inside his mind-palace again.

Then, something happened. Something that made the armydoctor shout out in surprise.

As Sherlock walked down the street, his gaze focused on the ground, a tall oblong object appeared before him.  
"Sherlock!" John shouted.

Sherlock had yet to see what was in front of him and kept walking, but John reacted quickly. He grabbed a hold of the absent-minded detective and pulled him aside, dropping the groceries and saving Sherlock from the humiliation of walking straight into a streetlight.

"What are you doing? Sherlock..." John threw a glance towards the streetlight and then back to Sherlock who still had his face turned away. Although John's voice sounded serious and his brows were drawn together into a frown, he barely managed to keep himself from laughing.  
Still, there was a hint of worry in the armydoctor's eyes.

"Sherlock", John tried again when he didn't get a response. He pulled Sherlock around so he could face him. However, the sight he was about to see was unexpected.

Sherlock's face was pale, except for the flush over his cheeks. Sweatdrops were building up on his forehead and his lips looked dry. He stared at John with blank eyes, lips pressed together and lowered brows.

"You look...terrible", John stated. Sherlock raised his brow, but didn't say anything.

"You must have caught a cold...I guess, in the end, you're human too", He said and almost looked a bit triumphant as he mentioned the last thing.  
Sherlock gave him a rebellious look.

"I'll be fine John! I just need a case and I'll be back to normal", Sherlock replied. John shook his head. No way in hell. He really wasn't looking too good. This wasn't abstinence, this was his body telling him to take it down a notch.

"For a genius you're pretty dumb", John said. Sherlock really was like a child sometimes, all play and no rest. Why was he so stubborn?  
"It's obvious you're feverish. I'm a doctor, remember? And now your nose is running too."

Sherlock snorted in response, but John would have none of his bollocks today. For once, John would be the one to lead and Sherlock the one follow him around. He grabbed the consulting detective's wrist and dragged him along, back to Baker Street. He held the two grocerie bags in one hand, a decision his fingers would regret.

John didn't even care that people might talk, even if they looked more like a mother and a rebellious five-year old than anything else. At the moment, he was genuinly concerned.

"Come on, Grumpy", John said when they finally got back to Baker Street. He had to help Sherlock get out of his coat, as it seemed too much of a challenge for him at the moment. When coat, shoes and scarf were removed, Sherlock attempted to climb the stairs. John watched, unsure whether to be amused or concerned. However, the smile on his lips was inevitable.

It reminded John of one time when Sherlock had pretended to be drunk and stumbled all across the pavement like he had no sense of direction or balance.  
This was worse.

"For heaven's sake Sherlock. Know your boundaries," John said, but Sherlock wasn't listening.

Sherlock wobbled up a step, only to almost lose his balance and fall backwards. John were about to rush forward when he seemed to find balance again and continued. He tried, helplessly, to use the wall as his help, but to no avail. Soon enough, the detective was on all fours and the urge to laugh got the hold of his companion.

John laughed, enhancing the wrinkles around his eyes and laugh lines. Sherlock didn't even look his way, probably too feverish to even notice. He rose, slowly and finally managed to reach upstairs. John followed him, trying to suppress the laughter still lingering in his stomach.

He escorted Sherlock into the bedroom and demanded him to lie down. Sherlock didn't have much of a choice in the matter. Firstly, because John wouldn't leave him alone until he did and secondly, because his body practically forced him to.

The room was spinning around him and his head throbbed in pain. He felt like there was a constant pressure on the side of his head, trying to crush his skull.

"John", Sherlock mumbled. He cleared his throat. Great, now his throat was hurting too.

"Water..." He whispered, voice hoarse and strained. John gave him a look which was overflowing with sympathy. John went and fetched a glass of cooling water for him. Sherlock gulped it down in one go and looked like he would pass out any second. Judged by the way he was acting, Sherlock wasn't used to colds.

"You'll be fine", John said.

After preparing warm blankets and ice in a towel, John returned to the bedroom. He placed the towel on Sherlock's head, feeling how he shuddered beneath his fingertips. John couldn't help feeling more and more like a mother taking care of her child.

He was a doctor, but his patients usually had more serious problems than a fever; like bullet wounds for example. Sherlock could handle most things, but this was something he couldn't outsmart. The thought made John smile. Perhaps Sherlock would finally learn geniuses needed rest too, which would give John some sparetime as well.

Sherlock closed his eyes and seemed to drift into sleep. A gentle smile spread across the armydoctor's lips as he reached out to adjust the towel on Sherlock's head. Something clenched inside him as he did and he felt how his heart started thumping more than usual. He watched Sherlock as the detective's breaths became heavier and more relaxed.

John observed him, taking in the sight of his sharp features and the curls slicked to his face. He was beautiful, intelligent beyond belief and he did-despite what other's might think-have a heart. John was certain of that last part. Whether Sherlock Holmes revealed it to the world or not, it was there.

Even if he denied being a hero-and perhaps he really wasn't- Sherlock was definitely more worthy of that title than anyone else John knew of. Perhaps Sherlock too, would see that some day.

John bit his lip, feeling how his pulse had risen further. Why was he still acting like this? Why couldn't his heart stop beating? Somehow, the sight of Sherlock alone was enough to make him happy, uncertain and miserable all at the same time.

Sherlock had saved John from the dark pit of loneliness at the time John needed it the most. He dragged John along on all his adventures, making John realize so many things about himself. He craved the excitement, the company and most of all; Sherlock. Without Sherlock, he might've checked out already.

He'd tried to ignore it, denying it every time the question was asked. However, his body betrayed him. Perhaps, it was time to ignore the fear of losing the one thing that made his life worth living and start listening to his own advice. John found himself leaning towards Sherlock and brushing the curls away from his face.

"You're a bloody fool sometimes. A stubborn, self-centered fool", he said, his voice almost a whisper.

"...But I can live with that."

He leaned forward and placed a kiss on the sleeping man's forehead, before pulling back-a lot faster than necessary-as if he just realized what he had done. He covered his mouth with his hands and walked out from the bedroom, blushing to his ears.

Sherlock opened his eyes, staring into the ceiling.

"Boundaries, huh?" Sherlock mumbled to himself. Although he'd been slightly absent the past few hours, he'd still heard John's every word. His fingers reached for the spot where the warmth of John still lingered and then to his chest.

Badump. Badump. His heart was acting weird.

Sherlock had never been big on emotions and sentimentality. Ever since he was little, he'd been distancing himself from feelings and nobody could ever change that; nobody but John apparently. John was brilliant in that aspect, being able to reach through his cold shell and into his heart.

The consulting detective threw glances towards the door, knowing John was on the other side, probably embarrassed and confused. John had evoked a feeling in him that was much stronger than the drive to solve cases-a feeling, urge or whatever it was called-that only John could satiate.

Sherlock snorted again, he'd never expected himself to get sentimental about anything or anyone. Now here he was; in love with Doctor John Watson.

And the Doctor loved him too.

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Thanks for reading guys! :) I hope you enjoyed it!


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